


In It For A Minute, Out Of It For A Year

by messitallup



Category: Leathermouth, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Drunkenness, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Like the smallest amount of angst, M/M, Stupid Boys, happy endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 07:29:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1217677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messitallup/pseuds/messitallup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Gerard decides to go his usual bar to get drunk after seeing his ex-boyfriend with a new girl, he gets lost on the way and stumbles into a bar, where he finds more in one night than he ever did with his ex-boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In It For A Minute, Out Of It For A Year

**Author's Note:**

> Very, very, very loosely based on the song Right Girl by the Maine.  
> Like, really loosely based.  
> I hope you guys like it, it took me a while to write and its my fic I've uploaded so con-crit would be great, but go nice please?  
> No smut, sorry :(  
> Completely unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own. If you spot something please let me know thanks :)

Fuck this. Fuck everything.

Gerard stumbled along another random street in the dark of New York. A car alarm went off behind him making him jump. Seriously, fuck this. Fuck Brad and his stupid new girlfriend. He stopped and leaned on the wall of a shop, dimly lit from the inside, before slumping to the ground. He was a pathetic mess; he had a paper due for his professor tomorrow which he had yet to start let alone finish, he had rent to pay when he was getting his shitty paycheck for until after it was due, and he had a hysterical brother trying to call him every two fucking seconds to ask about gay fucking relationships, not trying to rub it in his face how awfully his had gone, but still, managing pretty well so far.  
There was a reason Wikipedia was invented you know. Stupid Mikey. Stupid Pete. 

"Hey, you okay?" Gerard heard from above him, a shadow blocking the street light, the silhouette reaching a hand down to pull him up shocking Gerard out of his reverie. Gerard followed the hand up to the person it was connected to, before dropping his eyes back to the pavement in front of him again.   
"Just-" He paused before restarting, "Yeah, could you just tell me where I am?" Or where the nearest bar is, you know, so I can get off my face and forget about everything. Gerard grabbed the outstretched hand in front of him and used it to pull him to his feet while the man told him where he was,  
"You're about a mile from Golden Gate Bridge mate, you sure you're okay?"  
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Gerard said distractedly whilst brushing himself off, "Thanks though."  
"If you're sure," The man said, before turning walking away, glancing back at Gerard again before turning the corner and disappearing out of sight. 

Gerard sighed, he was probably one of those well-to-do collage boys who's mummy's and daddy's pay for everything. He sighed again and pushed himself off the wall. 

Now the man had gone, the streetlight flooded his vision again. The street was nondescript, a grocery store and a couple of chain clothes stores. Two cracked pavement lined the road before splitting off in opposite directions at the T-junction. The street was deserted, now the other man had left Gerard was the only person on the street, the only living thing other than the rats nibbling at the garbage bags, rubbish spilling from the bins and onto the floor. If he strained his ears, Gerard could hear the faint beat of bass. 

Music. It meant a bar, or a club, which meant alcohol. Finally, he could drown his sorrows in a nice pint of crappy, cheap beer and a vodka a coke. Or maybe a straight whiskey. He didn't really care as long as it got him off his face.  
And maybe he was overreacting, but he'd given Brad everything. It had been his first proper relationship, the thing he'd had with Lindsey before leaving for collage hadn't been a real relationship. With Brad, he hadn't known what he was doing, he was his first boyfriend, his first love, almost his first everything. Hell, they'd even moved in together for a short while in efforts to save their dying relationship towards the end. At that point they knew it was doomed, Brad was out every night -- now Gerard knew what he had been doing every night, or who anyway -- and Gerard was getting drunk in their little rented flat. Alone. 

Gerard followed the music like bloodhound, down the road and to the right. Round the corner and up a little hill. Down a small alleyway, tucked away in the corner was a little bar.  
A small crooked type place, it almost reminded him of what he thought the Leaky Cauldron would be like; if it weren't for the thumping punk music seeping through the open windows and down the little alley.  
The tarmac of the road cracked here and there running off in little rivets, tripping Gerard up as he walked towards the door. Light fell onto his face as his pushed through the door and stumbled as the door opened easier than he expected it would, falling across the thresh-hold. It was rather large inside, warm and smelt of cigarette smoke and alcohol, tables were randomly strewn across the room and wooden chandeliers fell from the ceiling, a couple of wall lights lit the dark corners with a warm yellow glow.  
Gerard's feet padded across the thick carpet, Gerard thought he would like this place.  
There was a group of ents he vaguely recognised from one of his classes at collage and older looking men clustered at the bar, chatting up the pretty, 20-something barmaid, serving them pint after pint of beer and a few girls laughing loudly, obviously trying to get the men's attention but just coming across as annoying and too damn loud. A band was playing up on the small, poorly constructed stage, the lead-singer thrashing around on the stage like he performing to thousands not maybe fifty people on a shitty stage that he might fall off any second. They were good, the beat of the drums and bass thudding through him like a second heart beat.  
Over by the bar, the barmaid was being occupied by the group of men that were really way too old to be hitting on a girl Gerard's age, it was kind of gross really and seriously inappropriate Gerard thought, sitting down on a bar-stool. 

He tried to signal to the barmaid but either she didn't see him or didn't care. He shrugged off his jacket and took off his scarf, rolling his shoulders, he relaxed against the bar leaning his head on the cool wood as the band up on stage finished their set. 

"Oi! Iero! Get the hell over here and serve this guy!" souted the barmaid at the stage across the room. "I'm busy with this lot!"   
"But Jam, I'm not on shift and I have to put my shit away!" the singer yelled back, "Can't you do it? Please? _Pleaaaaaaaaase?_ "  
"For fuck sake, if you don't come over here and serve this guy then you won't have a shift to come back to!"  
"Jam, that isn't fair," He whined, but had already started over in the direction of Gerard. 

Jam, the barmaid, patted the guy -- Iero -- on the back and whispered something in his ear and he giggled, fucking giggled and then sighed, turning serious muttering something back before putting on the apron that she had chucked at him. "Hey, welcome to The Hole, what's your poison?"   
"Umm, vodka?" Gerard stuttered. This guy was good looking. Jesus. "Y-yeah I'll have a vodka."  
"Vodka? Just vodka?" He raised an eyebrow.  
"Yeah, just a vodka. Thanks," Gerard sighed eyeing up the barman's tattoos. So much art, permanently etched into his skin. He'd watched... well tried to watch his brother having one done with her fianceé Alicia, before having to leave because, needles? No thanks. 

Iero, or whatever he was called -- weird name -- got the work on his drink, getting the glass out from under the bar, while Gerard tried to think up something smart to say to keep him here. He'd gone out hoping for a nice drink and a sweet hot thing and he might have scored on both for one in his life. Huh.   
"You're kinda short," He blurted out. Fuck. When trying to pick up a hot barman/musician you do NOT insult their height for fuck sake, Gerard thought. He could have seriously slammed his head down on the bar right then.  
The guy raised an eyebrow and passed him his drink, "And you aren't wearing clean clothes," He muttered under his breathe, obviously hoping Gerard hadn't heard him. Which he had, and hey, he was totally wearing clean clothes. 

Or not, he thought when he looked down at himself. Double fuck.   
"Yeah, I guess not. Paint's kinda an occupational hazard. Art school," Gerard sighed back trying to rub the paint off his jeans and tshirt but quickly giving up seeing it was useless, sipping on his vodka, before thinking better of it and downing the drink in one and pushing the glass forward again, signalling he wanted another one.   
"Ahh, yeah, I know the type," Cute Bar-Guy laughed, "Douchey, all important, woe me types. Come to drown all your sorrows then?" He was cute when he laughed Gerard thought absently and Cute Bar-Guy laughed again, "Thanks, dude." Oh, he said that out loud. Damn.   
"Something like that," He started, "You charge extra if I can complain? It's Iero right?" And the guy offered him his hand across the bar while smiling, friendly and bright, clearly amused by Gerard,   
"Nah, it's free for pretty faces. I'm Frank really," He nodded his head over to the barmaid, now mopping up the bar a couple meters over, "That douche just calls me Iero because it pisses me off."   
"Oh, I'm Gerard," Gerard blushed from the compliment and shook his hair out of his face.   
"Yeah, so why're you wanting to get wasted off your face tonight in this here bar tonight?" Frank looked up at him, that's how small he was, Gerard giggled, but he felt his face fall as he remember his confrontation with Brad and Kelly earlier and downed his second glass of straight vodka. 

"I gave him everything you know? Even my fucking heart, and he just goes and fucking stamps on it. I mean, what did I ever do to him? I was so... giving. I guess he prefer quick fucks in bathrooms to an actual relationship. Or at least a relationship with me." Gerard stopped, realising he was babbling and hot-guy-call-me-Frank probably didn't want to hear the problems of a 20 year old art-school fag.   
"Wow, he sounds like such a dick," Frank frowned, "You break up recently then?"  
"Nah, a while back, I just-" He stopped and swallowed, pushing his glass forward for Frank to refill again, leaning forward, "I just saw him with the girl he was cheating on me with. He stopped me, said he was sorry again and told me, 'I'm sorry, but my parents would have never accepted you' and when Kelly asked him who I was, he fucking said, 'oh, just an old friend, no one really' and that's what really got to me I think. So I snapped and told her perfect boyfriend was a stupid, cheating fag, who likes to fuck guys." 

Gerard leaned his head onto the bar, feeling sorry for himself and Frank leaned round and patted him awkwardly on the back, getting him yet another shot,   
"He seems like such a fucking douche, man, I'm sorry," Frank push the glass forward and put his hand over Gerard's. There was a pleasant buzz at this point, the alcohol kicking in nicely,  
"Comes with art school territory right?" Gerard smirked, "But I've got this fucking paper due tomorrow and my professor's going to kill me. I haven't even started it."  
"Dude, wow. Congrats, your life royally sucks," Frank leaned forward across the bar too, face scrunching up with sympathy, tilting his head to the side slightly making out as though he was going to say something before the barmaid from earlier called across the bar good-naturedly,  
"Doesn't look like you're going to get anything else done tonight Iero, might as well chuck me back the apron so I can call Cami, sound good Frankie-boy?"  
"Yeah, sounds cool," He untied the apron from around his waist and balled it up, chucking ed it across the room before, in a quick show of skill, vaulting ed the bar. It looked smooth to Gerard until Frank's foot got caught on the underside of the bar and he fell, literally into Gerard, knocking him slightly on his direct path to the floor. You could practically see Jam's face as she sighed, Gerard smirked down at him,  
"Frankie, seriously? You having fun down there Frankie-boy?" Frank looked up at him and flipped him the birdy before chirping,  
"Well, that's what I get for trying to impress someone. And yeah, 'nother nickname."  
"I'm not worth trying to impress, seriously," Gerard muttered, the smirk falling off his face. He words slurred together a little and the room started swimming, the lights on the walls dancing in the darkness. It was kinda pretty.  
"Haha, it's not that pretty. You're so wasted. Wow." Frank laughed, "Come on, lets get you home." 

They stumbled out of the bar, outing a vague apology and 'goodbye' to the barmaid and another to the guys packing up the van outside, smirking at something they said that Gerard didn't catch.  
Frank luckily new exactly where to go to get a cab, apparently the van had been his ride and seeing as he wasn't going home with the rest of the guys as he didn't think they would appreciate a drunk guy babbling on in the back of their van. And God did Gerard talk, if you could call it that, when he was drunk. 

In the end when they were waiting for a cab he started singing _We Will Rock You_ at the top of his lungs, not very well, and Frank couldn't help but join in. At last they hailed a cab and fell in laughing, some grumpy man walking past had told them to stop singing before they shattered windows and they had flipped him off and Gerard had called out some unintelligible insult after him making Frank giggle as they drove past.  
Man, Gerard loved that noise. 

Inside the cab, which smelt of old leather seats and that New York taxi smell, something like car cleaner and cigarettes, Frank and Gerard carried on pointless conversation about bands, and movies, comics and concerts they had been to and Frank talked about his band and Gerard told him about his ideas for his art school projects and what he thought of his professors, most of the time, he wasn't very polite. When they finally arrived at Gerard shitty little flat he didn't want to go inside.

"GERARD, YOU FUCKER," came the shout from behind them. Frank turned them around as Gerard was leaning on him, mostly unable to support his weight. A bulky looking man approached them, heaving with fury, rage pouring out of him.   
"You little bastard!" The guy spat at Gerard, who shrunk back into Frank, who was still supporting him, "Kelly broke up with me you little fucker! Its all your fucking fault!"  
"Look, I don't know who the hell-" Frank started, but was interrupted but the guy pretty much as soon as he started,  
"So, you fuck up my relationship and get yourself a new fuck toy? You are such a slut Gerard," He stepped closer to Gerard threateningly before turning to Frank, "I'd fuck off if I were you, he's not that good in bed, and he just fucks everything up." Frank narrowed his eyes. Where Brad's eyes where hot rage, Frank's were ice-cold fury.  
"I'd fuck off if  _I_ were  _you_ ," Frank practically snarled, before smirking up at Brad and shifting Gerard's weight on him slightly, "And personally," he dragged the word out, taking his time, "I think, Gee's amazing in bed."

Before Gerard could really understand what was happening and actually process the encounter as a whole, Gerard felt Frank's mouth collide with his with to force of a speeding truck and if Frank hadn't already been supporting his weight, Gerard would've fallen back in surprise.  
And Jesus, Frank could  _kiss._ Gerard actually thought that some of the things he was doing with his tongue was illegal in some states and countries.  


Brad made a disgusted noise and just when Gerard thought he had left, he felt a sharp impact on his cheek, knocking him backwards away from Frank and onto the pavement, thumping down harshly.  
His eyes widen as Brad loomed over him, "You fucking  _fag_." He looked disgusted and, honestly, kind of scared. "I swear to every God, if you even tell anybody what happened between us, then, your boyfriend will be taking you for a nice trip in the emergency room. Understood?"  


Gerard nodded frantically, eyes darting between Brad and Frank who was still standing in shock a couple of feet back, staring at where Gerard was sat on the floor. The shock from the punch sobering up Gerard pretty quickly  
Brad leaned down to Gerard's eye-height and whispered harshly, "Or maybe you'll be taking him there," before giving Gerard a final kick which sent him sprawling and a final glare before he set of at a swift jog down the street never once looking back.

"Jesus fuck Gerard, I'm so sorry," Frank cried, "I swear I didn't know he would react that way or I would never have-"  
"Its fine, I'm fine," Gerard insisted, pushing himself up off the floor for the second time that night, and dusting himself down. He patted over his bruised cheek, damn, he'd probably have a black eye from where Brad's fist had caught his eye tomorrow morning. And one on his ribs too. He sighed and smiled weakly, "Thanks though, you didn't have to stay."  
"Yeah well, I kinda feel like I do," Frank smiled back, "Let's get you to your flat yeah?"

They stumbled up the stars, Gard's ribs and face starting to ache in the worst way as they made their way to his door. He fumbled with his keys and unlocked the door on the third try, hands shaking, being surprisingly sober, if feeling slightly ill helped.

"Hey I'm beat, it was cool meeting you," Frank said, "I'm going to head home now, that okay?"  
"Yeah. I mean, your bed is probably more comfortable than my sofa," Gerard sighed, carelessly chucking his keys on the counter-top and internally sighing at the mess on his apartment... everything. Every surface was cluttered, the floor, the table tops, counter-tops. Art supplies lay strewn everywhere, and his flat-mate's stuff mixed among his.  
"You're offering your sofa? So gracious," Frank teased, "Though actually, I am exhausted so I might take you up on that offer, thanks."  
"Okay. I'll just set it up."

Gerard got the blankets and pillows from where they were stored in the bath-tub, they had been there when he first moved in and they still hadn't been moved.  
Whatever, Gerard was too tired to care at this point and was starting to feel seriously sick and sore.

He lay out the pillows and blanket on the sofa for Frank and then stumbled into bed, not even bothering to remove his shoes. ***

In the morning, he woke with a groan, glancing at his alarm clock before pain and nausea hit him and he had to stumble as quickly as possible to the bathroom to promptly throw up everything in his stomach, which wasn't very much, so the taste of acid was so much stronger when he finished.  
He sat there leaning over the toilet for about five more minutes after he'd stopped throwing up, just breathing through the pain in his side, remembering last night the confrontation and the cute barman, and then the cab ride home with Frank, and then the fight. Then Frank falling asleep on his sofa.

Gerard pushed himself up and shuffled into his kitchen/living room to see if Frank had stayed.  
The blankets where neatly folded and pillow placed on top of it, perfectly arranged, there was a cup of coffee in the microwave and an empty mug on the side next to a note.  
 _I'm sorry, I had to go._  
 _I had fun. xo Frnk._

Well, Gerard thought, that sorted that out and scowled as he turned the microwave on and a second bout of nausea hit him.

***

Later on that day, Gerard, wrapped up in a warm leather jacket and scarf, found himself back outside the same bar he met Frank in last night, The Hole. He waved the barmaid, Jamie he thought it was, over from inside.  
"We're closed," she called from inside, God knew what she had been doing inside the place at mid-afternoon then. Probably setting up for their opening later.  
"Wait, you're the guy from last night aren't you?" She shouted after him just as he turned away, calling him back, "You looking for Frankie?" She waved him inside.  
"Yeah, he... left early this morning," Gerard scowled, "I was just wondering if you... I don't know, had a way I could contact him with?"

Her face fell, "He didn't tell you? He's gone on tour, with his band, Leathermouth."  
"Oh," Gerard felt crushed. It didn't matter really, he knew that. He was just being stupid and irrational. He hadn't known Frank that long. Why was he even feeling like this? He turned to leave, but she called him back again,  
"Hey, you okay? You seemed kinda down last night before you got talking to Iero, anything you wanna talk about?" She gestured to the seat next to her at the bar, "I have time."

***

A year later, Gerard was wiping down the bar at The Hole, after pouring his heart out to Jamia, she had offered him a job at the bar --  _pub_ she always insisted, and they became close friends. Turns out, she was dating Lindsey, his Lindsey (well not his) from high school, small world.

He made friends with the other art students who hung out at The Hole, the ones he had recognised vaguely when he had first stumbled in here and he had nearly finished his art course.  
He was laughing at the awful joke Ray had just finished relaying, while wiping down the bar and putting away stray pint glasses that people had finished with, when the door open, letting a blast of cold air in. A chorus of laughs and voices reached his ears and sighed.  
He scanned the bar to find that Jamia was busy with a group of kids who were  _clearly_ under drinking age and rubbed his temples. The shitty band playing up on the make-do stage (though it looked more stable than it had when he had first come across the bar) was doing nothing to help the headache he could feel coming on, even though he had already taken a couple of aspirin.  
After Gerard had found out Frank had left, he had received a very apologetic voice mail from Brad saying he was very sorry about how he had reacted that night, and it turns out that after Brad had left Gerard and Frank alone, he had, literally, bumped into the guy who had helped Gerard up earlier, and, a few later, had started dating. Brad and Bob -- his boyfriend -- had become closer again with Gerard after that all had been explained though it had taken Gerard the good part of a half year for him to forgive Brad for hurting him so much. Eventually, but not at first, Brad's parents had come to accept their son's partner.

Gerard continued to stack used glasses and un-clutter the bar area, to no avail, as he felt the loud group approaching the bar.  
"What can a guy do to get some service around here?" A wrecked voice came. Either this guy had spent the last few hours screaming his lungs out or had just given a blow-job, low and scratchy and really worn out, either that or the guy had a sore throat, which would be kind of a let down.  
Though the voice had been deliciously destroyed, it was still an asshole-ish thing to say when both him and Jamia were so obviously busy.  
Gerard didn't look up from his task as he asked, "Anything I can help you with?"

Even to his own ears he sounded rude and bored, Ray hit his arms jokingly and said, "Paying customer! Enthusiasm is needed!" quoting Jamia perfectly.  
"I think I'll have a vodka," came the reply.  
Gerard still didn't look up, "Just a straight vodka?"  
"Yeah," the voice trailed off.

Gerard took a clean glass out from under the bar and reached up behind him to grab a bottle of smirnoff vodka and poured it into the glass, sloshing the liquid about as it cascaded down into the glass, a little spilling onto counter-top.  
He only looked up when he pushed the glass forward across the bar, at which point he gasped and Frank smirked.  
"Hey there, long time no see."  
Gerard could only gape.  
"Iero! You're back! You fucker! You didn't tell me you were coming back today!" Jamia suddenly appear at Gerard's side, giving Frank an awkward, but no less enthused hug across the bar.  
"Yeah, I wanted it to be a surprise." He shot a look at Gerard.  
"You left," was all Gerard could say, "No note explaining, just an _I'm sorry_ , but other than that, nothing."  
"Yeah," he dragged out in his Jersey twang, "I'm really sorry about that. No, seriously, I really am. I didn't think about it until I'd left and got a text reminding me I was leaving that day. I thought I had more time."  
"But- but you could've left, I don't know, a phone number?" Gerard asked, incredulous that someone would forget something as big as a year long tour.

Frank scratched the back of his head, revealing new tattoos. Or at least ones Gerard hadn't seen before. But it wasn't exactly as though he had seen Frankie without his shirt on.  
"Yeah-"  
"Hey, am I missing out on something here?" Ray asked, interrupting Frank, interested in the drama that was unfolding before his eyes.  
"I don't think so," Gerard muttered, turning to Jamia, "My shift finished about a minute ago, Elsie will be here soon, can I go? I've got a bit of a headache, and those guys aren't helping," he said nodding towards to the stage and Frank -- who Gerard totally wasn't looking at -- looked slightly crestfallen.  
"Yeah, I suppose so," Jamia said, awkwardly, but Gerard had already taken off his apron and was making his way towards the door.

Frank's eyes followed him out the door as he left, and Ray said to him,  
"Look, he's just... upset. I'm sure if you apologise to him, he'll forgive you. He's just embarrassed and caught off-guard, that's all."  
"Gerard's dramatic like that, he knows he's being a drama queen," Jamia chipped in, "Go get him."

And with that advice bounding around in his ears, Frank set off out the door into the cold New York night after Gerard.

***

"GEE! GEE! WAIT PLEASE!" Gerard heard the calling behind him.  
Sure, Gerard knew he was overreacting, but it was too late to turn back now.

He followed the rivets cracked into the pavement out of the alley and into the street. He had left his jacket in the bar and now he was freezing. And Frank hadn't seemed to have taken the hint and had followed him out of the bar. He could hear Frank's steady footfalls approaching, and in an effort to get away, he sped up but ended up tripping on a raised slab of pavement.

Expecting to fall onto the cold ground he was surprise when he felt someone grab his sleeve and stop him from falling.  
Frank turned him around, having him in such close quarters, Gerard felt nervous. He'd wanted something like this to happen as soon as he had found out Frank had left his apartment when he sleeping like he was no more than a one night stand.  
He guessed that was why he had returned back to the bar that day, to look for Frank, hoping it had been some misunderstand, or something romantic would happen. He didn't know anymore.

"Please, I'm so sorry for leaving you in the morning and not waiting for you to wake up. I'm so sorry for not leaving a phone number, you don't know how many times I wish I had. So many times during the tour I had thought back and wished I had left a phone number so I could text you, I mean, I love my band mates, but I needed someone different to talk to sometimes and you seemed so interesting," Frank paused to take a breath, the air misting in the cold as it left his mouth, looking like he had just taken a drag out of a cigarette. "Damned smokers lungs, I should really give up. Anyway, I just wanted to say I'm really sorry and that I really like you, and I guess... I just want to start where we left off if that was okay with you?"

Gerard had been slightly melting inside throughout that entire speech, not that he would admit that, because he was a manly man, and man men definitely did not melt. But then, it wasn't exactly as though cute punk guys with tattoos and amazing kissing skills chased you down the street to explain to you why they hadn't left a phone number and to tell you they wanted to start off where they had stopped a year ago.

Maybe manly men did melt at things like that.

He smiled, "You know, I still think you're an asshole. Asshole," and then dipped in to kiss Frank hard on the mouth.

They heard cheers echoing from the alley as they saw Jamia, Lindsey, Ray and a couple of Gerard's friends who had been hanging out at the bar watching them.

"Let's give them something to really cheer about, huh?" Frank whispered in Gerard's ear, who blushed and giggled before Frank stretched up and reconnected their mouths.

They stayed that way for a long time.

**The End.**

 


End file.
